For three days, the forest stood still.
No wind, no birdsong—just the slow, steady pulse of the Heartroot tether. It radiated warmth like a giant ember buried in the earth, resonating with a gentle rhythm that kept even predators at bay. The basin had become sacred ground, and the group stayed near its edge, tending to wounds, meditating, and speaking little.
Lucian hadn't spoken more than a handful of words since the fusion. He lay in the grass each night and stared at the stars as if waiting for them to blink first. Something inside him had changed—and not just the magic.
It was as if the tether had pulled something out of him... and left something else behind.
"You should talk to him," Laila said, softly.
Selia glanced over at Lucian and sighed. "He fused too deep. That sort of merge? It rewires you. You feel things you shouldn't. Carry echoes of things that didn't start with you."
"He's not broken," Laila said, sharper than intended. "Just tired."
Selia gave a small nod. "Even the strongest stones crack under enough pressure."
Elina approached them at dawn the next morning. Her hands were wrapped in leather, sleeves rolled, her face thinner than usual. "We need to move."
"Already?" Selia asked.
Elina nodded toward the ridge. "Scouts. Hollow Eye. They're regrouping. Not many, but enough. And if we stay, they'll keep coming. The Heartroot's healed, but that doesn't mean it's safe."
Lucian sat up. He'd heard every word.
"I'm ready," he said, voice quiet, but firm.
Laila turned to him. "You sure?"
He looked at her, and for a moment the old spark was there again. "I didn't come this far to stop now."
🌿
They broke camp within the hour, packing light. The path away from the Heartroot was rough, winding, and unfamiliar—but Selia seemed to know where she was going.
"We're heading north," she explained. "To the Crossing."
Lucian frowned. "That's a borderland. No one goes there anymore."
"That's the point," she said. "The Order won't follow us across the Shatterline. Not directly."
"The Shatterline?" Laila asked.
Elina, walking beside them, gave a grim nod. "It's the place where the ley lines broke during the last war. Torn magic. Raw. Wild. Most people who step across it don't come back."
"So why are we going there?" Lucian asked.
Selia's voice was quiet. "Because that's where the next fight begins."
⚔️
The forest thinned as they marched, giving way to long, jagged fields where the grass grew in tufts and the soil crackled with residual heat. Strange trees twisted at odd angles, roots exposed, as if the ground itself had been flipped and never corrected.
By the third night, Lucian's dreams grew strange.
He saw the Heartroot, pulsing—not with gold light, but crimson. And within its branches hung bodies. His siblings. His friends. Laila.
He woke screaming.
Elina was beside him in an instant, blade half-drawn, eyes wild. "What happened?!"
Lucian sat up, sweat pouring down his face, heart thundering in his chest.
"I saw… I saw everyone dead."
Laila came over, grabbing his arm, grounding him. "It was just a dream."
"No," he said, shaking his head. "It wasn't. It was a warning."
Selia stared at him for a long moment. "The tether touched your spirit. It sees your fears now. And your future."
Lucian's fists clenched. "Then I'll change it."
The group fell into silence again.
🌫️
By the fifth day, they reached the edge of the Shatterline.
It was unmistakable.
The land ended—literally. A cliff of fractured stone opened into a vast plain of floating earth, rifted sky, and rivers that ran upward. Lightning danced in slow arcs across the horizon, and strange shapes moved within the clouds. Magic bled from every stone. It was beautiful.
And wrong.
Selia took a deep breath. "This is where the Hollow Eye was born. And where it plans to end everything."
Elina stepped forward, scanning the horizon. "If their main sanctum's anywhere, it's here. We destroy it, we cut off their leadership."
Lucian stared into the chaos. "So how do we cross?"
Selia reached into her pack and withdrew a vial of silvery dust. "With this."
Lucian frowned. "Dust?"
"Ley-dust," she said. "Pure crystallized essence from the Heartroot. We scatter it on the riftstone, and the land answers. It forms a path… briefly."
Laila stepped forward. "How long is briefly?"
"Maybe a minute. Maybe five."
Elina smirked faintly. "Enough for a dramatic entrance."
Selia scattered the dust.
It shimmered in the air, dancing in spirals before sinking into the fractured ground. Moments later, the earth shifted. Stones lifted, aligning in a narrow bridge across the rift. A path had formed, floating, trembling, but solid.
Selia turned to them. "Once we cross, there's no turning back."
Lucian looked at the rift, then back at her. "We didn't come all this way to retreat."
Laila took his hand.
Together, they stepped forward.
🌩️
The bridge groaned with every step.
Around them, the world hissed and hummed. The air was thick with possibility and danger. It felt like walking through a dream barely tethered to reality.
Halfway across, they heard the sound.
A low, guttural moan—like a thousand voices speaking in reverse.
Selia spun around. "Wraithborn!"
Figures emerged from the fog—twisted bodies with no faces, only runes carved into their skin. They moved without walking, gliding over the broken earth.
"Keep going!" Elina shouted, drawing her blades.
"I'll hold them off!" Selia said, slamming her staff into the stone. A barrier of jagged earth rose behind them, slowing the pursuit.
Lucian hesitated. "You can't take them all!"
"I won't have to," she said, eyes glowing. "Just long enough."
Then she pushed him forward.
Laila pulled at his sleeve. "Lucian—we have to go."
He looked back once, saw Selia's silhouette framed in gold light—and then they ran.
⚔️🌪️
They crossed the last stone just as the bridge began to crumble. Behind them, the land shook. A final burst of earth erupted into the sky—and then collapsed into silence.
Selia was gone.
Lucian fell to his knees, panting.
Elina knelt beside him, quiet. "She knew the risk."
"She didn't even hesitate," Laila whispered.
Lucian looked at the rift, then at the sky, then at the shattered land before them. The heart of the Hollow Eye lay ahead—somewhere in the chaos, waiting.
Burning.
But he felt no fear.
Only fire.